Borderline
by The-Cursed-Daughter
Summary: All I can think about is that I love you so much that I would kill you myself if you weren't already dead and gone. Yami/Bakura


_So, this is my first foray into YGO fanfiction. I watched the anime as a kid (didn't we all?), but I was never really able to get into the manga, which is a first for me. Every anime I've watched, I've either read the manga first or at the same time. _

_Either way, I never did get to finish the series, and I'm doing that now, but I'm only as far as the beginning of Battle City. I'm also watching the abridged series, which is hysterical. For this reason, I apologize for any plot mistakes. I've also discovered that I darkship, antagoship, and puzzleship...although I don't think I will ever be able to bring myself to write puzzleship, because Yugi still annoys me for some reason. Anyway, enjoy the fic._

**_Warnings/Disclaimers: Lots of swearing, allusions to sex, and spoilers for the end of the series. Oh, and a super quick mention of Malik/Marik/Ryou, although if that's squick for you...why are you reading yaoi? YGO franchise belong to whoever it is it belongs to, but the plot of this fic is mine._**

_Also, I'm not saying that this plot is super original. I'm just saying it's worth checking out._

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><p>I hate you so fucking much.<p>

Ryou tells me that hate is a strong word—good. I like strong words. They're bold. Blunt. No-bullshit words remind me of me. Because it's to the point that I don't even _hate_ you anymore—I _despise_ you with every fiber of every body I have ever been in. I hate you so much that _Ryou_ hates you.

If Ryou _could_ hate anyone—my hikari fucking _bleeds_ compassion.

In Egypt, it made sense. The pharaoh doesn't like the robber that steals from his ancestors' tombs any more than the robber likes the pharaoh who sends bounty hunters after him to flay the skin from his bones or some other such nonsense. Circle of life and all that rot. Which is why I'm not sure how the sex played into everything.

Let me get one thing straight—you did not fill some sort of void in my heart. You weren't the light of my Ra-damn life. I wanted revenge on your father for what he did to Kuru Eruna, and if I couldn't stab the dead geezer to...well, to death, I would stab you instead. And I'm sure I wasn't the grand love of your life either. We just seemed to be able to put aside our intense distaste for one another for a night and spend it ripping off each other's clothes instead of our heads.

In the Ring, I think I hated you the most. You can get bored doing almost whatever you want for three millennia—something I'm sure you know as well as I do. It gives you time to brood. A _lot_ of time to brood. I almost missed you, actually; there's a certain joy to be derived from being the bane of someone's existence, and once neither of you exist...

My point is, you being around gave me a reason to be around, too. I had something to do, besides rob and plunder and avoid authorities and sleep with whoever I damn well pleased. And after conjuring enough riches and women (and men) from the depths of the Shadow Realm, my thoughts turned to you.

And then we were alive again. You granted me a body and I suppose I should be fucking grateful, but all I could think about is how much I fucking _hate_ you. You have a new world here that you can slide right into, Yami or Pharaoh or whatever the hell they call you now, with friends and followers and love. And what do I have? I have Malik and Marik and Ryou. Who all have somehow ended up _together_, so in the end, I still have nothing. No one. Because I can't stand this new world, where one thing must be bigger and brighter and louder than the next. And unlike Egypt, now that I have a taste of what I could have, I can't get over it. I want what you have in a way that I never did.

So you showing up at the doorstep of my shit apartment was moderately unexpected. As was the crazy jungle sex on almost every available surface—the sink is uncomfortable no matter how you swing it. Then you said you loved me. I told you that you were full of shit—what right did a guy who didn't know his own damn name have to flounce around proclaiming feelings that probably were just another way to spite me? And you looked at me with your damn I'm-the-Pharaoh-and-you-better-not-fucking-mess-with-me face, and it struck me that you probably hit your head harder enough not to just lose your memories, but your common fucking sense. I told you so. You didn't think it was very funny.

"Fine!" I snapped, "You want to think you've loved me for three thousand years? Be my fucking guest. I'll let you love me." Nice, long, dramatic pause while I eyed something sharp. "But if this is just some cruel stunt, I'll disembowel you faster than you can say 'feral imp'."

You grinned and said, "Kinky."

But now we're _here_, and I've realized that I hate you now more than ever—more than in Egypt, or in the Ring, or in Domino. Because your hikari is bawling his eyes out and Kaiba is trying to look like he doesn't fucking care, and Ra, you look just like you did back then in those nights where we pretended that we enjoyed each other's company. And then you turn and walk away grandly—because how else does a pharaoh walk?—but you turn back for a moment and really _look_ at me, like you're fucking drinking me in. A real 'until we meet again' moment. But then you're gone and I suppose that once again I should be fucking grateful, but all I can think about is—

All I can think about is that I love you so fucking much that I would kill you myself if you weren't already dead and gone.

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><p><em>Reviews would be wonderful.<em>

_Kit_


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